That he succeeds 't is ten to one;
Your vote and interest, sir!"-'T is done. Our pupil's hopes, though twice defeated, Are with a scholarship completed: A scholarship but half maintains, And college-rules are heavy chains: In garret dark he smokes and puns, A prey to discipline and duns; And now, intent on new designs, Sighs for a fellowship - and fines. When nine full tedious winters past*, That utmost wish is crown'd at last : But the rich prize no sooner got, Again he quarrels with his lot: "These fellowships are pretty things, We live indeed like petty kings:
But who can bear to waste his whole age Amid the dullness of a college, Debarr'd the common joys of life, And that prime bliss -a loving wife! O! what's a table richly spread, Without a woman at its head?
Would some snug benefice but fall, Ye feasts, ye dinners! farewell all! To offices I'd bid adieu,
Of dean, vice præs.
Come joys, that rural quiet yields,
Come tythes, and house, and fruitful fields!"
* The scholars of Trinity are superannuated, if they do not succeed to fellowships in nine years after their election to scholarships.
Too fond of freedom and of ease
A patron's vanity to please,
Long time he watches, and by stealth, Each frail incumbent's doubtful health; At length, and in his fortieth year,
two hundred clear ! With breast elate beyond expression, He hurries down to take possession, With rapture views the sweet retreat — "What a convenient house! how neat! For fuel here 's sufficient wood:
Pray God the cellars may be good!
that must be new-plann'dShall these old-fashion'd yew-trees stand? O'er yonder vacant plot shall rise The flow'ry shrub of thousand dyes: Yon wall, that feels the southern ray, Shall blush with ruddy fruitage gay : While thick beneath its aspect warm O'er well-rang'd hives the bees shall swarm, From which, ere long, of golden gleam Metheglin's luscious juice shall stream: This awkward hut, o'ergrown with ivy, We 'll alter to a modern privy: Up yon green slope, of hazels trim, An avenue so cool and dim Shall to an arbour at the end, In spite of gout, entice a friend. My predecessor lov'd devotionBut of a garden had no notion."
Continuing this fantastic farce on, He now commences country parson.
To make his character entire,
He weds-a cousin of the 'squire; Not over-weighty in the purse, But many doctors have done worse: And though she boasts no charms divine, Yet she can carve and make birch wine.
Thus fixt, content he taps his barrel, Exhorts his neighbours not to quarrel; Finds his church-wardens have discerning Both in good liquor and good learning ; With tythes his barns replete he sees, And chuckles o'er his surplice fees; Studies to find out latent dues, And regulates the state of pews; Rides a sleek mare with purple housing, To share the monthly club's carousing; Of Oxford pranks facetious tells, And-but on Sundays-hears no bells; Sends presents of his choicest fruit, And prunes himself each sapless shoot; Plants cauliflowers, and boasts to rear The earliest melons of the year; Thinks alteration charming work is, Keeps Bantam cocks, and feeds his turkies; Builds in his copse a fav'rite bench, And stores the pond with carp and tench.
But ah! too soon his thoughtless breast By cares domestic is opprest; And a third butcher's bill, and brewing, Threaten inevitable ruin:
For children fresh expenses yet, And Dicky now for school is fit.
"Why did I sell my college life," He cries, "for benefice and wife? Return, ye days, when endless pleasure I found in reading, or in leisure! When calm around the common room I puff'd my daily pipe's perfume! Rode for a stomach, and inspected, At annual bottlings, corks selected: And din'd untax'd, untroubled, under The portrait of our pious founder! When impositions were supply'd
To light my pipe- or soothe my pride – No cares were then for forward peas, A yearly-longing wife to please; My thoughts no christ'ning dinners crost, No children cry'd for butter'd toast; And ev'ry night I went to bed, Without a modus in my head!"
Oh! trifling head, and fickle heart! Chagrin'd at whatsoe'er thou art ; A dupe to follies yet untry'd,
And sick of pleasures, scarce enjoy'd!
Each prize possess'd, thy transport ceases,
And in pursuit alone it pleases.
INSCRIPTION IN A HERMITAGE
AT ANSLEY HALL IN WARWICKSHIRE
BENEATH this stony roof reclin'd, I soothe to peace my pensive mind; And while, to shade my lowly cave, Embowering elms their umbrage wave;
And while the maple dish is mine, The beechen cup, unstain'd with wine; I scorn the gay licentious crowd, Nor heed the toys that deck the proud.
Within my limits lone and still The blackbird pipes in artless trill; Fast by my couch, congenial guest, The wren has wove her mossy nest; From busy scenes, and brighter skies, To lurk with innocence, she flies : Here hopes in safe repose to dwell, Nor aught suspects the sylvan cell.
At morn I take my custom'd round, To mark how buds yon shrubby mound, And every opening primrose count, That trimly paints my blooming mount: Or o'er the sculptures, quaint and rude, That grace my gloomy solitude, I teach in winding wreaths to stray Fantastic ivy's gadding spray.
At eve, within yon studious nook, I ope my brass-embossed book, Pourtray'd with many a holy deed Of martyrs, crown'd with heavenly meed: Then as my taper waxes dim,
Chant, ere I sleep, my measur'd hymn; And at the close, the gleams behold Of parting wings bedropt with gold.
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